


Apprentice

by MarigoldVance



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Dwarves, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Hints Of Student/Professor, M/M, MasterWizard!Fíli, Prompt Fill, References - "The Way Of Wizards" by Tom Cross, WinterFRE2020, WizardInTraining!Kíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance
Summary: "One of the Fae triplets raised his hand but, when Fíli was about to call on him, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. Barnaeby, the boy, looked puzzled for a moment and followed Fíli’s gaze, the whole class taking his lead until they were all gaping at the sight of a much older male student from the School of Tutelage floating up and up past the window outside in what seemed to be a giant pink-sheened soap bubble."ORKíli is a hopeless Wizard in training, or so he believes.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31
Collections: GatheringFiKi - Winter FRE 2020





	Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morcanta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morcanta/gifts).



> for the prompt: " _45\. (Preferred FiKi) Wizards in Training AU_ "
> 
> ≡
> 
> [2020-04-29] **please check out the BEAUTIFUL[photoset](https://linane-art.tumblr.com/post/613865728669630464/one-of-the-fae-triplets-raised-his-hand-but-when) created by the EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL [Linane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane)!!!**

Fíli was balanced on the edge of his desk, half-moon spectacles perched at the tip of his prominent nose, as he read a passage from the Book of Younger Knowledge to his raggle of learners. They were sat in rows, some leaned forward in their eagerness to listen, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (in three cases, literally: The Fae triplets’ squirrely tails flicked behind them whenever Fíli recited a particularly fascinating fact).

He’d been a Master for all of twenty years, the youngest in the history of the University of Wizardry to earn an instructorship. Fíli was proud of his professing, known for his ability to captivate the most wandering minds. Not surprising, given he was a specialized Soothsayer, his twisty words and vocal magic excellent for a position such as his. After a decade apprenticing beside his Master, teaching in The College of Supernatural Knowledge, the Wise Wizard Gandalf – head of the University – had taken notice and offered Fíli a post guiding the University’s newcomers.

Revealed Children weren’t as uncommon as one would think in all the worlds that branched out from the Crossroads of the Realms. But those who had the perseverance to grow their magic _were_. Within the first six months of lessons, the number of learners at the School of Tutelage dwindled significantly and those who couldn’t manage their paces were sent home with no memory and a cautionary vise on their lesser Flares. Handpicking who stayed and who left was Fíli’s least favorite aspect of his job however, it had to be done.

Fíli’s own class had graduated a meagre seventeen Wizards …

“ — _‘tis not so much that the Cave of Names is impossible to find – exceedingly difficult, yes, but not impossible – nor that, once found, third row heads down please it is impossible to enter_ — ”1

A whizzing cut the air as soon as the third row of younglings bent forward to press their brows to the wood of their long table, a _shnck-poing_ springing after when the wayward arrow embedded itself in the stone wall across from the open window. Fíli continued reading to the end of the page and asked his learners, “So, what happens when someone is trapped in the Cave?”

A learner, Éowyn – an apple-cheeked human child with exceptional ability – raised her hand, her head still bowed as she spoke into the surface of her table. “They get turned around until they pass.”

Fíli clapped once and jumped up, which alerted the third row that they were safe to sit up, and swung around his desk to the chalkboard stationed behind it. “That’s right!” He beamed, scribbling a rough drawing of the Cave mouth at the bottom and squiggly lines extending from it in an inaccurate representation of the tunnels that split in all directions away from the Cave’s main cavern. Fíli whipped around and asked, “The majority of trespassers never find their way out – poor souls. Who can tell me where they end up?”

One of the Fae triplets raised his hand but, when Fíli was about to call on him, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. Barnaeby, the boy, looked puzzled for a moment and followed Fíli’s gaze, the whole class taking his lead until they were all gaping at the sight of a much older male learner floating up and up past the window outside in what seemed to be a giant pink-sheened soap bubble.

“Uhm.” The learner chuckled breathlessly, pale and nervous. His hands and legs were spread wide, purchased against the arcs of the bubble as if that helped keep him steady. It didn’t appear to work, the bubble tipping this way and that and taking his body with it. He chanced a wave, “ _Hello_.” before cartwheeling halfway around so he was upside-down. “ _Uh-uh-AH!_ ”

Fíli stepped toward the window and leaned his elbow on the sill, his body halfway out so he could measure the distance between himself and the ground. Not a far way to fall for a Wizard, he surmised, and summoned a pin into the air to pop the bubble. The learner had a second to register what was about to happen, his eyes bulging, and his mouth hung open, before he plummeted to the sandy ground of the combat yard below.

The instructor lifted a grateful hand Fíli’s way and stomped over to the learner, hoisting him up roughly under the arm and leading him away from a small group of others who trained around them – loosing arrows then casting shields.

A bubble was an interesting choice for a shield though Fíli supposed it could’ve been worse. At least the learner would confuse a potential opponent long enough to float away from whatever trouble he’d landed himself in.

Fíli turned back to the room and continued his lesson without another hitch.

«∞»

“This is _hopeless_ ,” Kíli groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face and slumping against the wall in the corridor that led to the Meal Hall. He slid to the floor and tucked one knee up, resting his chin on it. The fingers of one hand fiddled with the frayed seam of his tunic while the other hand wrapped itself around his shin. “I’m never going to get it. _A bubble_ , Tauriel. It was supposed to be … _anything else_.”

Tauriel – a starlit beauty with a weeping crown of bright red hair, and sharp, glade-colored eyes – regarded him impassively for a moment. She joined Kíli on the floor after a second of thought and looped her slender arms through his left, pressing herself close in a gesture of comfort.

“It isn’t hopeless,” She reassured, “ _You_ are not hopeless.” Kíli scoffed and tilted his head back, knocking it lightly against the stone before letting it rest there. “Truly, Kíli, you’re not. You were brilliant when you arrived. One of the cleverest!”

“Younger Magic isn’t difficult.”

“Yes. It _is_. And if you applied yourself now half as much as you did then, these teachings wouldn’t be such a hardship.”

Kíli straightened, his face etched in an expression of affront, “I apply myself!”

Tauriel quirked an eyebrow, “You do not. Ever since you decided your field of study, you have shrugged away anything else that could be meaningful outside of it.”

“Hey,” Kíli grumbled, “What does a Harbinger _need_ with combat training? Really?”

Tauriel sighed and rolled her eyes, “A _Harbinger_ might not need anything from it, but a well-rounded _Wizard_ will.” She fixed Kíli under a hard gaze, “See? That’s what I speak of. You are only partially committed, Kíli.”

Grousing into his knee, Kíli muttered an insolent remark that Tauriel ignored.

Harbingers had a poor reputation, that was all. Known for their simple magic – cold breezes that dropped brooms, lining crows on branches – they weren’t revered for, well, _anything_. Some even referred to Harbinger magic as _lazy_ ; saved for those who didn’t aspire to much else.

Kíli found it … _neat_. At least he knew for certain he’d be able to perform it. Harbinger magic wasn’t strictly summoning birds. There was an element of illusion involved which as well took practice and dedication like any other field of magical study, thank you very much!

“We both know you’re better than that.” Tauriel said, standing and dusting off the back of her robe. She held out her hand to Kíli who took it and gracelessly met her height on his feet. “And if you do not, I _do_.”

Pink as delicate as the bubble he’d accidentally formed earlier blushed Kíli’s cheeks at her comment. He cleared his throat and swallowed; eyes bashfully trained on his boots. He thanked her in a hush and rubbed the back of his neck, blinking sweetly before forcefully ending the moment, “Time for lunch, yeah? I’m _starving_. All that failure really makes a man ravenous!”

That earned Kíli a smack on the upside of the head.

“ _Ow!_ ”

Tauriel smirked prettily, “You deserved it.”

«∞»

Kíli was seven when he was Revealed. A palace guard had found him in the gardens in the middle of the night, communing with a wolf who had howled for hours about the dire state of the available menu in the forest. Apparently, Erebor’s new trend of hare-fur cuffs had depleted the wolf’s food supply and he’d been far too impatient to wait for the spring birth-rush. Thus, the wolf had snuck into the gardens in search of something to eat.

He had been kind enough not to devour Kíli in exchange for a sympathetic ear. So Kíli had listened intently and offered what advice he could as a sheltered seven-year-old prince who knew nothing about the rights or woes of wolves.

The guard had been stunned speechless. Kíli’s father had been timid and afraid, unable to stop squirming in his son’s presence as if Kíli had threatened (or had the skill) to turn him into a frog. Kíli’s younger brother had a more positive reaction; he’d squealed and been giddy and had asked Kíli to animate their playthings. Kíli had made a few figurines march on wobbly legs for three ticks of the clock which was enough for Tíli to put Kíli on a pedestal for the rest of their lives.

And then there’d been Kíli’s uncle, Thorin, King of Erebor. He’d been a dark and furious beast of himself when he’d heard of Kíli’s Revealing. It had changed things, according to Thorin’s advisor, Balin, who had graciously been the one to remind Thorin that he had _two_ nephews and, therefore, a remaining heir to groom for Erebor’s throne.

Six months succeeding the kerfuffle, at the behest of a smartly crafted letter from the University of Wizardry, Balin had escorted Kíli to the circle of toadstools where Kíli was collected by a willowy member of the Guild of Wizards. A Master Pallando who Kíli hadn’t seen since.

Wizardry was an unusual, foolhardy education. Kíli took to it like a fish to water. He was a natural, manipulating basic spells easily and absorbing all the information he and his classmates were given in lectures and books alike. As it was with all learners who are indicted into the School of Tutelage after their six months of Observance, Kíli was assigned to an Instructor who he could go to with problems that would undoubtedly arise during the course of his years of academia.

Master Fíli was pleasant, composed and handsome – the last being a trait Kíli became jarringly aware of in the wake of his maturity. Master Fíli was much younger than the other instructors and professors the University employed. In fact, Fíli was younger than several aides and assistants who were decades younger than the youngest instructors and professors … Still, Kíli had no idea what age that made Fíli.

Contrary to most Wizards, Fíli kept his peppery blond beard cut close to his jaw; a beaded, braided mustache grown in a sense of whimsy around full posy-tinted lips. He was average in height but strong in build. Kíli had been graced to see Fíli without the uniform of his teaching robes a handful of times when Kíli visited him for advice in his on-grounds Sanctum.

Which was where Kíli found himself the evening of his bungled shield-casting exercise.

«∞»

Fíli paced the length of the enormous, overwhelmed desk set in the wide outer room of his Sanctum. Once an item was placed in its clutter, it was unlikely to be seen again, an apprentice had once joked. Sadly, it wasn’t entirely untrue as Fíli was fuming after minutes of searching for his charge’s latest Combat Class records.

Dwalin had been broody and aggravated when he’d handed them to Fíli earlier that day, the broken spit of an arrow shaft still protruding from his thigh. Fíli couldn’t blame Dwalin for his frustration. In his younger years, Kíli had shined above everyone, leaps and bounds ahead of his classmates. And then, two terms into his first secondary year in the School, it seemed the boy had lost heart. Fíli had caught wind of a dismaying rumor that Kíli was possibly considering _Harbinging_. As a _Vocation_.

Ridiculous!

Kíli had oceans of potential cresting within him. Not to suggest Harbingers were dimly Flared though most were somewhat bridled. Their contribution to the magical order was not so much _noteworthy_ as it was _noticed_. Fíli thought of Harbingers like ivy: They grew anywhere and added to the atmosphere of magical occurrences but weren’t entirely necessary. 

Fíli collapsed into his chair on a heavy exhale and removed his spectacles, tossed them on his desk. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and allowed himself a moment to collect himself. Kíli, he knew, was shuffling his feet outside the door, waiting to be called in for a discussion Kíli probably wasn’t keen to have; his third of the month.

With another calming inhale, Fíli spun a finger and rattled a breeze to ring the bell that hung above the doorframe, signalling for Kíli to enter.

“Please,” Fíli said as Kíli approached his desk, head hung and face hidden behind a curtain of messy chestnut hair, “Have a seat.”

Kíli plonked himself down in the chair sat on the opposite side of Fíli’s desk, shoulders tucked inward and hands fidgeting in his lap. Kíli was a charming creature, Fíli had to admit: A body that was always in motion no matter what Kíli was doing; slim even under all his layers. Owlish amber-brown eyes and a plush, berry mouth and—

— and Fíli had to interrupt those thoughts for the umpteenth time because Kíli was a _learner_ and harboring such fancies was inappropriate. Fíli coughed and rose, maneuvering around his desk to lean beside Kíli. He crossed his arms and stared down at Kíli with a soft expression.

“Master Dwalin tells me you’re having difficulty making progress in his class?”

Kíli didn’t say anything, simply nodded.

“ _Kíli_ —”

Suddenly, Kíli came alive, his wild eyes snaring Fíli’s as he ranted, “It isn’t my fault, Fí—Master Fíli!” Fíli instantly hated the correction as he did every time, “I’m just … I just can’t do conjurings of that sort! Ask me to turn a red apple yellow and I’m your Wizard! But a _shield_ from a _thought_!? A shield that keeps the sharp objects _out_? It’s harder than it looks!”

Fíli held up a hand. “Kíli. Turning colors around is basic magic. We all learn how to do it in our primary years at the School. Even Gremlins could do it if they put their minds to it.” Kíli puffed up and opened his mouth to protest (or defend Gremlins. Fíli couldn’t be sure) but Fíli continued, “You have a well in you; an incredible supply of magic that you can call to your fingertips in a blink! I have to understand why you’ve _given up_!”

Kíli deflated, hurt evident in the furrow of his brow and the pillowy pout on his lips. “I—”

Fíli repositioned himself so he was bent toward Kíli, almost level with Kíli’s face. He anchored a hand on Kíli’s shoulder in encouragement. “You _have_. I’ve been told about your ideas to become a _Harbinger_ – Kíli, you’re stronger than that. Hell,” Fíli laughed, “You’re better than half the learners in your class and yet most of them aren’t flinging arrows into classrooms! _Nigel_ is casting shields better than yours and he grew a beanstalk through a greenhouse last year!”

The friction in the room dissipated slightly when Kíli chuckled at the memory, relaxing back into his chair. “True.”

“And you were the one to help him master the craft of plant-nursing so please don’t tell me you lack skill.”

“It’s not _that_.” Kíli insisted, training big, glossy eyes on Fíli. Fíli was instantly, regrettably lost. “I’m … I … ”

“Kíli?” Fíli coaxed, removing his hand to hold the arm of Kíli’s chair, steadying himself as he crouched beside Kíli. He looked up with an imploring smile. “Is this about your uncle?”

Kíli nibbled the inside of his cheek and shrugged. 

Fíli turned Kíli toward him with a careful finger under Kíli’s chin. “You know you can go back. Whenever you want. You can visit your brother and your home.”

“Yes. I know. But … ” Kíli scrunched up his face, “My uncle won’t accept me. He was so angry Fí—Master Fíli. So, so angry.”

“He was angry because his plan to make you heir was ruined. Not because you came into your magic. I’m sure he’s reconsidered his stupidity by now. Besides, a Wizard is very valuable to king.”

“So Tauriel keeps telling me.”

Fíli’s lips tugged up at the corners. He liked Tauriel. She was studious and regal, and Fíli understood she was Kíli’s best friend and biggest supporter. “Then you should believe her.”

There it was: Kíli’s smile, though unsure at its edges, was bright enough to outshine the sun.

“What I’d like to know is how you thought becoming a Harbinger would help mend your relationship with your uncle?”

Kíli shook his head, clearly embarrassed, “I figured that if I were a lesser Wizard, he would see me as almost _normal_.”

And that, Fíli couldn’t stand to hear. “ _Kíli_ ,” He took Kíli’s jaw in both his hands, feeling the roughness of shy stubble under the pads of his thumbs. He held Kíli there, hoping to tattoo his next words into Kíli’s mind and heart for Kíli to revisit whenever he felt like he was something _unnatural_ , “You are amazing. Do not allow your uncle’s mistake of letting you go the way he did make you think otherwise.”

Kíli’s gasped, such a small sound that was so loud in their closeness. He nodded stiffly, a blush warming his cheeks and nose and all down his neck.

“ _Ahem_. Sorry.” Fíli released Kíli and stood, hurrying to the safety behind his desk and taking a seat. He glanced at Kíli who still looked shellshocked and twee under a flush that seemed to darken with Fíli’s scrutiny. “How’s this,” Fíli said to snip the undercurrent of tension, “Let me help you. You don’t need to decide what field you wish to study exclusively for awhile yet. Apprentice me next term and we’ll explore together what you’re best suited for, hm?”

“Really!?” Kíli’s smile brought daylight to the later hour, “You want me to apprentice you!?” Kíli faltered, “Are you sure?”

“You have a lot of catching up to do,” Fíli said firmly, “But yes. No more slacking. No more defeat. Am I clear?”

“Crystal!”

Kíli bounced up and around Fíli’s desk and threw his arms around Fíli’s neck without hesitation or forethought. When he pulled back, they were both rosy but Kíli’s smile never faltered.

“Thank you.” Kíli said quietly, as if it was a secret. “I – _thank you_.”

As Fíli dismissed Kíli and watched him go, he couldn’t help but think that he’d made the worst mistake of his professorship. Or, his heart twittered, the best decision of his extended lifetime. He believed in Kíli. The young Wizard showed promise and Fíli would be tarred and feathered before he allowed someone with that amount of talent slip away into the world as, Fíli grimaced, a _Harbinger_.

He knew the turmoil of being wrested from the duty placed upon the heads of young heirs before they’d even started their journey toward the throne. Expectations dashed to smithereens and, with them, the respect of those who’d had them. Kíli’s uncle wasn’t the first king in the history of Durin’s House to be disappointed and he wouldn’t be the last if the latent line of magic continued to course through the veins of every heir born.

The least Fíli could do when they began Kíli’s apprenticeship was to assure Kíli that he wasn’t alone.

Staring at the seat Kíli had vacated, Fíli moaned and buried his face in his hands, Kíli’s earthy scent lingering in his nostrils from their brief embrace. No matter how noble Fíli’s intentions, Fíli had to come to terms with the truth that he was completely and utterly done for.

And where in Merlin's name had his spectacles disappeared to!?

**Author's Note:**

> 1 - direct citation from the chapter "At the Crossroads of the Realms" in Tom Cross' _The Way Of Wizards_ (minus the 'third row' business)
> 
> 2 - The **NAMES** for The University of Wizardry and all of its levels (School of Tutelage, College of Supernatural Knowledge, etc.) and the Crossroads of the Realms/The Cave of Names are from Tom Cross' _The Way of Wizards_. The conceptualizations are my own.
> 
> i dunno why this series (yes, that's right, another one, fam) makes me feel like that time in May when you can open your windows again and let the fresh air in! i love this 'verse. like. so much! i may be alone and that's totally fine but i'm going to be delving into it as often as i can!
> 
> inspired by/written to: [Comin' Thro' The Rye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6tVclFi4a8) by Bear McCreary ( _Outlander Soundtrack Vol.1_ )


End file.
